


Tell Me A Story

by probablyawful



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:34:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5424149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablyawful/pseuds/probablyawful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from a prompt seen somewhere I can't remember (if you own the rights to it, let me know, and I'll credit you with it, if you'd like).</p><p>The Crawley family are headed on a long train ride out of town, and the staff is accompanying them by train. Once everyone but Thomas and Daisy have fallen asleep, Thomas turns to Daisy. - "I'm bored. Tell me a story." This is what follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me A Story

**Author's Note:**

> Could take place at anytime after Jimmy, Alfred and Ivy's leaving, I suppose.

\- “Tell me a story.”

\- “What?”

\- “You heard me. I'm bored, we have twenty kilometers left. Tell me a story.”

Daisy looked at him in disbelief. They had been on the train for nearly four hours and Andy, Mr. Bates, Anna, Mr. Molesley, Miss Baxter and the two other kitchen maids were sound asleep in the cabin alongside them. Daisy and Thomas were the only ones left awake, Thomas never quite finding himself capable of sleeping sitting upright and Daisy finding herself almost too bored to sleep. That is, not as bored as the man in front of her, it seemed.

\- “Mr. Barrow, with me, there's not much to tell,” she insisted.

\- “I don't believe that. You've got to come up with something to entertain your elders with.”

It was ridiculous, really, considering he was only a few years her senior, but she sighed deeply, giving in. Thomas grinned wickedly at her surrender, and she scowled at him.

\- “What do you want, a sad story, or…?” She shifted uncomfortably.

\- “Just give me something with meaning. Some depth.”

It sounded like a challenge, and Daisy was rather surprised. She wasn't what most people would consider a deep person overall, and one would certainly not think she had any grand 'stories of depth' to tell. It was almost flattering, hadn't it given her enough to think about.

Contemplating for a while whether to sink or swim, she settled for the latter, and gave a plea to the man before her. - “Only if you promise not to laugh.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. - “And what good would that do me?” Daisy gave him a look, and he sighed. - “I won't laugh, alright? Promise.”

Folding her hands tightly in her lap, she spoke on impulse. She was too good at that at times, but right now it worked in her favor. - “When my parents died, I didn't feel sad.”

Something shifted in Thomas' posture, and she could only interpret it as interest. He leaned back a little.

\- “How come?” he asked, as nonchalantly as one would ask about the weather. Daisy didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved. At least he wasn't laughing.

\- “Because they were unfair to me,” she declared, hating how she sounded like a child.

Thomas looking somewhat amused didn't make the case any better.

\- “Always telling me I was stupid and wouldn't amount to anything.”

She shook her head as if to clear it, noticing that Thomas' features carried a heavier expression now. She felt an absurd sense of delight at actually being taken seriously.

\- “I remember my mum constantly asking me what I went to school for, when nothing would come of me anyway. And my father being out working all day only to come home and...” She frowned, thinking back, as if contemplating whether her next statement would be a true one. - “I can't actually remember him ever saying a word to me.” Her voice had gone quiet, almost too low for Thomas to hear it.

He looked to be in deep thought for a while, before smiling weakly. - “Blimey,” he stated, humorlessly, - “I'm sorry to hear that.”

\- “Thank you,” Daisy said, softly.

She hadn't really spoken about her past to anyone but Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Mason. She had mentioned a thing or two to Andy from time to time again, but not in quite so heavy detail. Trying to react in a mature manner, as Carson would inform her to do, she cleared her head.

\- “I know my mother had eleven kids to take care of, but I don't know… I don't think it makes it any better...”

\- “It doesn't,” Thomas confirmed simply.

\- “And whenever...” She felt her throat tightening up, which mortified her. Was she to start crying, he would most certainly start laughing. Still, she had started talking and somehow couldn't manage to stop. - “When I got here, I noticed that people did believe in me. And… My life started here, you know? It took me this long to believe that I could do something with my life, but now I do, and… It's almost as if it's not real. Still.”

She wiped at her right eye, willing the tears back. Thomas didn't laugh, but he did form a smile of sympathy.

\- “Well, I'm glad to hear it,” he complimented, - “And if you don't mind my saying, I think you've done quite well for yourself, Daisy.”

He sounded sincere, and Daisy found it meant so much to her that she was rather surprised. When Thomas Barrow gave a compliment, there had to be truth to it, because he sure didn't hand those out lightly. She breathed a sigh of relief, that came out more like a laugh.

\- “It felt good to say that,” she stated, as surprised as she felt.

Thomas sighed. - “Family isn't easy, I know that much,” he confessed.

Daisy frowned. - “What about your family, then, Mr. Barrow?” she asked, - “You hardly speak of them.”

She wasn't stupid; she had always assumed there was a rather good reason for that, other than him wanting to uphold some mask of mystery, but the opportunity to ask had never approached. Now it was here in full bloom.

\- “It's not much to tell, really,” Thomas countered, and Daisy found that rather unfair.

\- “Oh, come on! I just poured my soul out to you, it's only fair you do the same.”

Thomas looked rather amused at that. - “You're a tough negotiator, aren't you?”

Daisy gave a proud smile, and he gave in.

\- “Alright fine,” he stated, putting a cigarette to his mouth, offering her one. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as a decline. - “My mum died when I was eight.”

\- “Were you sad?” Daisy asked, and Thomas seemed to think for a while, before he nodded.

\- “Yes, suppose I was,” he asked, - “She sort of… Stabilized it a bit at home, you may say. As for my father...” He thought for a while. He had rather admired Daisy's ability to see where her parents went wrong; his perception was quite a lot more blurry. - “I suppose I had a lot of respect for my father. He was a clever man, in many ways. People liked him, and when he was in a good mood, he was wonderful, really.”

Daisy nodded in comprehension, as if seeing where this was going already. - “And when he wasn't?” she inquired, and Thomas gave a crooked grin.

\- “Then, not so much,” he declared, - “It was… It was more than the belt, to put it like that.” He gave a humorless grin. - “And it wasn't solely for punishment either. Sometimes I think he did it for sport, think it delighted him, to have someone to take his daily frustrations out on. When my mother was alive, of course, she got between us. He wouldn't raise a hand to her, which I'm glad of… It was just… Me and my sister.”

Daisy drew a deep breath, nodding in comprehension. Thomas found himself rather impressed by her mature way of comprehending the information. Her eyes were comforting but not pitying, which was a better reaction than he had been aiming for.

\- “Where is your sister now?” she asked, - “And your father for that matter?”

\- “My sister lives in Manchester with her two children. She won't let me see them, for reasons I suppose you can guess...” Daisy's eyes widened for a moment, before she nodded in understanding, - “And my father died a few years ago.” He chuckled dryly. - “And no, I didn't feel bad either.”

Daisy gave a friendly smile. They sat in silence for a while, before she spoke.

\- “That was not a fun story time, though,” she claimed, and Thomas gave a quick laugh.

\- “Suppose it wasn't.”

\- “Now, tell me a funny story. Anything,” she demanded, and Thomas frowned at her.

\- “That would make it uneven, though. Two stories from me and one from you, is hardly fair.”

Daisy shrugged. - “We can keep going the whole ride, if you'd like.”

Thomas stomped his cigarette out into the ashtray, before sighing in agreement. - “Very well, I'll take that challenge. How shocked are you willing to become.”

Daisy looked frightened for a second, and Thomas found himself delighted rather than anxious at her reaction. Then she composed herself.

\- “Enough so that it will distract me from this boring trip, but not so much so that I faint and we must stop the train,” she declared, and Thomas nodded in comprehension.

\- “Gives me a bit of a leeway. Alright, let's see...” He thought for a while, before suppressing a grin. - “Alright, remember that duke who was here after the Titanic sank?”

Daisy frowned, scanning her memory. - “I think so, one of Lady Mary's suitors, right?”

\- “Right,” Thomas confirmed, waiting to drop the bomb, just for emphasis, building tension.

\- “What about him?”

\- “I was with him first,” Thomas stated, voice lowered, and Daisy's eyes widened.

\- “Was with him…?”

\- “You're not that slow.”

Daisy's mouth fell agape, before it spread into a wide smile, throwing her into a fit of laughter so heavy she had to clutch her stomach.

\- “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, and Thomas had to shush her.

\- “You're going to wake the entire train and have me arrested. Put a sock in it, will you?”

\- “Sorry!” Daisy had to bite her hand not to scream out of laughter. Once she calmed down and her laughs only came in the form of small hiccups, she managed to compose herself at least somewhat. - “My God, that is some story… How had you thought to even make it work…?”

\- “The idea was I would come with them. As their 'valet'.” He exaggerated the word to the point where the hidden meaning was unmistakeable. Daisy had to stop herself from laughing again.

\- “That's what we're calling it now?”

They sat in silence for a while, as Daisy had to steady her breathing. Then she spoke again, in a lower voice this time, barely above a whisper.

\- “You know, it took me forever to understand you were...” She made a movement with her hand, and Thomas grinned.

\- “Weren't the brightest tool in the shed there, were you?”

\- “Easy for you to say, you led me on!” Daisy countered, - “Just to get back at William. That was mean.”

Thomas grimaced. - “I know, sorry about that.”

Daisy scoffed. - “Don't worry, I wasn't that in love with you,” she said in a demonstrative note.

Thomas hummed. - “Sure, whatever gets you through the night.”

Daisy kicked his shin playfully, and Thomas looked at her in bewilderment. - “That's how we're playing it now, huh?” He returned the favor, and Daisy gasped.

\- “Not only are you kicking a girl, but you're messing up my stockings!” she exclaimed, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

\- “Don't kick people first, then, and you won't be having that problem.”

The stories went on, in a lighter tone than the first one. Daisy made him laugh at the story about how Alfred once tripped over the Dowager's walking stick and spilled enough scotch on himself to come downstairs smelling like a pub for the rest of the evening, and Thomas made her gasp in horror as he told her the story of how he stole, lost and not quite found His Lordship's dog just to get a promotion.

\- “But you can't tell anyone, I'd get fired on the spot.”

\- “Nothing leaves the cabin,” Daisy insisted, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

\- “What was that story about Jimmy, Alfred and the jar?” Thomas inquired.

\- “The jam jar, you mean?” Thomas nodded, and Daisy giggled. - “They were having some sort of a machismo contest, I think...”

Thomas rolled his eyes. - “Of course they were.” He still had a special place in his heart for Jimmy and he probably always would be, but he doubted he would ever find two people as self-absorbed and equally insecure people as him and Alfred.

\- “And they took that out on the jam jar, God knows why… Then when Alfred couldn't open it, Jimmy was going to show him how 'a real man did it'.” She sighed, shaking her head at his behalf. - “And then he fell and hurt himself.”

Thomas laughed. - “Well, of course he did.”

\- “I still don't understand why the jar had to suffer,” Daisy wondered solemnly, - “Couldn't they have sorted it out in a tug of war, or something?”

\- “Speaking of which,” Thomas stated, - “You remember the fair at Thirsk back in '21?”

\- “Where you took the beating?”

\- “Before that,” Thomas stated, - “When we were about to have a tug of war, Jimmy insisted it would, and I quote, 'be too rough for me'.”

Daisy frowned in confusion. - “But Mr. Barrow… You're a war medic.”

Thomas gave a nod in her direction. - “I know.”

\- “You got your hand shot through.”

Thomas nodded in comprehension. - “I'm well aware.”

Daisy shook her head in disbelief. - “Then why would a simple tug of war be…?”

\- “We both know why, don't we?” Thomas inquired, and Daisy's mouth formed in an O.

\- “Well, that's stupid,” she countered, stating it as final, and Thomas grinned.

\- “Couldn't agree more.”

A rumbling sound came from beside them, as Miss Baxter woke up, and Thomas looked at her with an amused expression. - “Ah, Miss Baxter,” he said, in a tone far too delighted to be good, - “Tell us a story.”

Daisy looked at her with the same kind of expression, and Miss Baxter regarded them with reproachful suspicion.

\- “No,” she countered, politely but concerned, before falling back asleep on Moseley's shoulder.

Thomas grinned. - “Then you tell me another one, Daisy.”

\- “Alright, so there was this time...”

 


End file.
